This is one of those rare movies that starts off middling-to-bad, then gets worse... and worse... and worse, until you can bear it no longer and the credits roll. What anyone was thinking in putting together this story is completely beyond me. Angela (personal fave Mia Kirshner) is the daughter of a fiery adultress (Theresa Russell) and a crippled father. John (Adam Beach) is a native American wrestling with the typical ostracization we see of native Americans in the movies. They become unlikely friends, and over the years they witness each other's misery. Angela is nearly raped. John's love for her is spurned. Eventually, Angela develops a tragic illness (which is manifest in the film primarily through her red, puffy face). Later, there are superimposed ghostly images of our heros over amber waves of grain. Schmaltz has never been spread this thick, folks, especially not by the director of both Porky's and SuperBabies. This is truly horrifying stuff.